Thorgan the Smasher
by Falcon97
Summary: After the defeat of Morgarath and the crowning of Duncan as the new king of Araluen, Crowley, Halt and the new-formed Ranger corps have set about bringing an end to the peace-breakers roaming through Araluen. Now Halt and Crowley must bring an end to the worst of them all. Thorgan. Looking for better title. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**Here's a new fanfic from myself, if I take a while to update it'll be because I'm drowning in schoolwork and other stuff like that (not alien abduction or anything).**

**I was reading Halt's Peril and suddenly thought about writing a story based on that time where Crowley and Halt face down Thorgan the Smasher in their earlier days as Rangers.**

**May contain a few minor spoilers and also ****contains some violence. **

* * *

The watchman on duty yawned and stamped his feet, trying to blink away the sleep from his heavy eyes. He glanced at the sky, judging the passage of time by the movement of the slim crescent moon teetering on the edge of the horizon. His watch would be over soon and he was thankful for that.

He was a watchman for a small village located in the northeastern of Araluen; precious little happened here apart from the odd brawls that broke out in the local tavern and the occasional raggle-taggle groups of bandits that sometimes appeared every now and then, nothing that was a serious threat to their safety.

At that thought the man suddenly straightened and renewed his efforts to remain alert. Recently in this fief a large group of bandits had been terrorizing people; at first it was just waylaying travelers on the road, now the situation had escalated and the group had grown larger and more confident, attacking various hamlets and villages throughout north-eastern Araluen. It had been bad enough that they hadn't been dealt with when King Oswald was in charge, now, with fewer men to help guard the small country villages after the war against Morgarath, the bandits were striking small hamlets more and more, taking advantage of their unpreparedness.

He shivered briefly, shifting his grip on his spear to adjust his cloak. It was very early spring so the nights were still cold and bitter despite the warmth of the day.

The watchman jumped briefly at the sound of feet treading on the road behind him, twisting around he relaxed as he was the familiar figure of one of his friends who was also a member of the watch. Their numbers were fewer after the recent war and he'd lost some good friends but at least not all of them.

'Anything happening?' asked the new arrival quietly, scanning the area surrounding the main road leading up to the village.

'No,' grunted his friend in reply, 'All quiet out there.'

His companion nodded, 'Aye well, it still pays to be cautious what with that devil Thorgan roaming these parts with his crew.'

The watchman nodded grimly in agreement and they both stood in silence for a moment wrapped in their thoughts, 'Well,' said the first one after a few minutes, 'I'd best be on my way, I've a warming drink awaiting me back home and can't be late.'

His friend chuckled, 'Wish I could join you but-' he stopped speaking suddenly, freezing, staring out into the darkness beyond.  
'Did you hear that?' he said nervously.

The other watchman didn't get to reply as a spear sailed out of the darkness the watchman let out a cry of alarm as his friend went down and bandits started to run towards the village along the main road, materializing out of the darkness, 'We're under ata-!'

He was cut of adruptedly as a club wielded by a bandit thundered into the side of his head. If the man had been conscious he would have quailed at the sight of the man who wielded it. Standing far taller than most men with lank strands of dark hair and a ragged beard partially covering a pockmarked and scared face he was a fearsome sight made even more terrifying by the massive war club which he held clasped in one hand. The man barred his teeth in a grim semblance of a laugh.

'Come on lads!' he bellowed in a deep voice, his eyes wild and remorseless for the havoc he and his men was about to unleash on this village; then he lead the charge into the village, his crew charging after him roaring battle-cries at the top of their lungs wielding a vast assortment of weapons, plundering, burning and terrorizing.

People stumbled out of their beds or were dragged from them as bandits ran into peoples houses, grabbing anything that looked to be of value and knocking anyone aside who tried to defend their families or goods. Members of the watch, their numbers lessened by the war, tried to rally but against a screaming band of cutthroat men, outnumbered three to one, stood little chance against them and were quickly quelled despite their most valiant efforts.

An hour later when the crew of bandits had gone on their way, laden down with the villagers possessions, the hamlet was almost unrecognizable. Flames licked out of windows, leaping from house to house, whilst men as well as women frantically tried to quench the flames. People, many already injured or grieving for the loss of loved ones in the recent war, had to deal with yet more loss and grief as their homes burned before their eyes and their friends and family were found injured or dead.

Thorgan the Smasher had struck again.

* * *

**So, first chapter, please tell review and tell me what you think. **

**Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter up in a couple of days but that depends on how much schoolwork I can manage to shift -_-**


	2. Chapter 2

**Right, next chapter, it's a bit short and doesn't have much action I'm afraid, but the next one will hopefully have some arrows and daggers hurtling around along with some Ranger action :D**

* * *

Duncan, the young king of Araluen, leaned forward and frowned as he scanned the latest report he'd just received outlining the activities of Thorgan and his crew on their rampage through the north-eastern part of his kingdom. They seemed to be growing bolder now, attacking larger villages than they used to, and their numbers also seemed to be growing, and fast.

'They need to be stopped,' said one of his closest and most trusted advisers, and also, his friend, from the opposite side of the small room where Duncan was holding a brief meeting.

Duncan looked across the table, placed in the middle of the room, to Arald, Baron of Redmont Fief and nodded his agreement, 'And soon,' added the young King, 'their causing havoc and growing more bolder and stronger.'

Lord Northolt, the current supreme army commander, spoke up, 'It's this man Thorgan that needs to be finished,' he leaned forward, placing his hands on the table and bending over the large map of Araluen spread across it, looking intently at the north-eastern section of the country where Thorgan and his men had last struck.  
'Once he and the other leaders have been finished and brought to justice then most likely the bandits will simply disperse,' he added thoughtfully.

Duncan nodded again, 'Yes, that how it usually works, once the main ringleaders have been dealt with the others will probably loose their incentive and disperse.'

'Especially as the various penalties are being re-enforced,' Arald commented also peering at the map intently.

'I think we can all agree on who will be going to finish them off,' put in Duncan with a slight smile as the leaned back in his chair and looked around the room at each of his advisers.

'Halt and Crowley I presume,' said Lord Anthony, despite this sort of thing not being very much in his league he still know a thing or two about it.

Duncan's advisers all nodded in agreement of the idea. They were the best Rangers in the country, pretty much responsible for bringing about the liberation of Araluen from Morgarath and his commanders, reinstating the Ranger Corps and having Duncan made king of Araluen. If anyone could deal with Thorgan and his bandits then those two could.

'So, where are they now then?' asked Arald, adjusting his sitting position, wincing slightly as the movement aggravated the wound where he'd been hit with an arrow during the war.

'Chasing down one of Morgarath's cronies in the fenlands,' replied Duncan, he'd issued the mission himself, wanting all of Morgarath's men dealt with as soon as possible before they could cause more havoc in the country or escape to Gallica, 'knowing them they'll be finished with the job soon, if not now.'

'I'll have a messenger dispatched immediately sire,' put in Lord Anthony, ever practical.

'Excellent,' said Duncan with a grim smile, 'I want Thorgan finished.'

Arald and David exchanged a slight glance, neither of them fancied the idea of being in Thorgan's shoes, or for that matter, any of his crew, it was never a good idea to get on the bad side of a Ranger, particularly rangers such as Halt and Crowley.

* * *

**Right, sorry it's another short chapter but I was in a bit of a hurry to get it posted. I'll make the next update longer, promise!**

**While you're waiting please review, thanks to flaminglake for being the first to review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter three as promised a nice long one this time.**

**Thanks to Flamminglake and Bralt for being my reviewers!**

**And as I also promised, some daggers and arrows being chucked around, enjoy!**

* * *

Halt scanned the area surrounding him with an efficient eye, on the look-out for potential danger, which, here in the Fens, he thought wryly, was more likely to be found than some other places. The ground was boggy and damp, gnarled, twisted trees stood dotted around and the light was dim, clouds hiding the sun which was beginning to sink down low in the sky.

Halt returned his gaze to the ground, it was dangerous travelling through these parts, difficult to distinguish between what was solid, if a little muddy ground and what was a treacherous bog. He and Crowley had been tracking one of Morgarath's senior commanders through the fens for the past day, he'd fled after the battle when Morgarath was captured and had been on the run for several days. Crowley and Halt were now finally catching up to him.

He scanned the mud in front of him, tracks easy to pick out in the wet ground, the group hadn't made much effort, or any effort at all to hide there passage. Halt guessed they were hoping to compensate speed for stealth.

'We're getting close,' murmured Crowley behind him.

Halt nodded his agreement, turning to glance quickly at his friend who was soundlessly moving along behind him despite the wet ground. Though he was a good silent mover himself he was never going to be as good at it as Crowley, but then Crowley would never match his marksmanship with the longbow.

'I'd say that they're heading for Tintagell,' he replied in answer to his friend in a hushed voice, even if they were still quite a way behind their targets he still didn't want to make any more noise than necessary.

Crowley considered this, Tintagell was a small fishing village located on the edge of the fens, he was aware that occasionally some shady affairs where rumored to take place there, smuggling and other felonies but the worst suspected crime had to be moondarking, something he and Halt were eager to put an end to, 'No doubt they'll be trying to get out of Araluen,' Crowley said thoughtfully, 'they will probably aiming to escape to Gallica.'

'It makes sense, after all, where else could he and his men go in this country?' Halt replied.

Crowley nodded a few times and the two friends continued in silence. Behind them trotted their mounts; Halt and Crowley had been riding fast in pursuit of the commander and his small company of soldiers for some time earlier in the day and so had decided to give their horses a well-earned break and continue on foot now their quarry so close.

The sandy-haired Ranger glanced down at the ground briefly, raking his gaze over the tracks with a practiced eye then grimaced in distaste as he saw the state of his boots and trousers which were caked in dark fenland mud. He turned to glance at his horse Cropper; his mount's legs were also smeared with mud and splatters of the substance were drying on his coat.

Cropper gave him what appeared to be a long-suffering look, _I don't know about you but I'd love a bath right now._

Crowley paused for a moment to consider how his horse could take a bath before replying out loud without thinking, 'You and me both my friend.'

Halt turned again and raised an eyebrow at Crowley who said in an aloof voice, slightly embarrassed to have been caught in the act of talking aloud to his horse, 'I wasn't talking to you.'

Halt smiled inwardly but kept his expression blank and replied, 'Good,' letting some satisfaction creep into his voice, then turned around, allowing himself to smile as he heard Crowley mutter to his horse, 'You know I prefer talking to you, some humans just don't know how to make good conversation.'

Cropper tossed his head and let out a quiet snort, he seemed to agree.

* * *

Some time later Halt suddenly froze and held up a hand in warning. Immediately Crowley and the horses stopped also, becoming stock still. The shadows had lengthened now and darkness was beginning to descend as the sun slowly sank from view.  
It didn't take Crowley long to see what his friend had spotted, dark shadows could be seen moving ahead. The wind was at their backs which explained why their horses hadn't signaled that their quarry was ahead. The Ranger narrowed his eyes to try and make out more detail, the group was by no means stealthy, blundering somewhat noisily through the fens and not bothering to talk in hushed tones, but they were just to far away for the men to be able to make out any words.

'So,' ventured Crowley after the group had drawn out of sight, 'what's the plan?'

Halt glanced up at the sky, 'I doubt they will be travelling for much longer, they wouldn't risk walking through this place at night.'

Crowley nodded, travelling through this place at night wasn't a good idea, though the land they were moving through currently was a bit more stable and less boggy it was still a place where you needed to keep your wits about you, 'In that case, we should follow them for a while then set up camp ourselves.'

Halt turned to his friend, 'And then attack them tonight,' he finished off.

'That's what I was planning to do, I want to get this over with quickly before they have a chance to reach the village and make a break for it.'

Halt nodded once, resolutely, 'Tonight it is.'

* * *

Halt moved silently along the ground, his mottled cloak draped around his shoulders and heavy cowl pulled up over his head. He made no sound as he moved along, one with his surroundings he blended into the natural environment around him.

The ground here was dryer, more firm, the best place a person was going to be able to find to set up camp here in the fens. Halt felt a little sour about that thinking to his and Crowley's camp, it was damp, very damp; and to top that they were unable to light a fire and thus brew up some coffee.

The Ranger glanced ahead, in front of him, through a tangle of branches he could see the light of a fire flickering away, he sniffed and caught the familiar aroma of coffee blown to him on the slight breeze. He scowled slightly, this wasn't making him any more kindly disposed towards Morgarath's ex-commander and his men.

He focused back on the task at hand and began to move closer towards the camp, constantly on the look-out for any watchmen posted outside the camp area. Halt frowned as he approached closer to the camp, already he could see figures moving around that area and make out their voices but had yet to run into any guards.

He and Crowley had opted to keep the plan as simple as possible, therefore reducing the risk of anything going wrong, Crowley was currently approaching the opposite of the camp whilst Halt navigated this side, reducing the chance that someone might be able to make a break for it. The rest of the plan wasn't very complex: knock out any watchmen, knock out any guards, grab the commander and get him to the nearest jail.

It sounded easy but Halt was well aware, as was his friend, that even the simplest plan can go awry and it probably will, something that had been drummed into his head by his former mentor Pritchard.

Halt suddenly froze something had moved behind him, he could here a few dry twigs cracking as someone shifted position, a long deep sigh that spoke of boredom and discomfort then silence. Slowly, not making any sharp, sudden movements, Halt turned, trusting his cloak to hide him.

It took a few minutes, his night-vision having been affected a little by the campfire, but the Ranger soon saw the source of the noise. A man was stood a little way back and several meters to the right, slumped against a tree. Well, he'd found the watchman. Light from the small moon glinted off a spear or lance or some sort and the man had made not attempt to hide his pale face which Halt could see faintly in the relative darkness.

Halt deliberated his next move, he'd clearly have to back-track a little way to get into the right position to quietly take out the man...

His thoughts were cut off as a voice called out of the darkness, 'Oi! Harold, come on, your coffee's goin' cold.'

Halt looked for the source of the voice, a man had stepped a little way out of the camp area in the direction of the watchman.

The man on guard sighed again and turned, treading clumsily through the undergrowth, twigs and small branches cracking loudly underfoot, there was a few muttered curses as the man's spear was caught on some foliage and he paused for a few moments to get it free before staggering out into the clearing.

Halt grinned inwardly before ghosting forward to hear better, a few meters away he hunkered down at the base of a tree where the shadows were deepest. The Ranger now had a good view of the camp, several small tents were pitched and a few horses were staked to the ground around a large campfire over which was brewing a kettle of coffee, Halt's mouth watered a little at the fragrant smell which drifted in his direction before forcing himself to focus.

Several men were spread around the fire, talking among themselves.

Halt scanned the faces of the people gathered there before settling on that of one particular man. He had short, dark red hair and a once-neat beard now bushy and a bit wild after days on the run. Commander Ulric. Just the person he was after. Halt allowed a brief smile to touch his normally taciturn and emotionless features. Excellent.

The man who Halt guess had been on guard was haranguing one of the men around the fire, '-told you not to do that!' he was exclaiming in an exasperated tone.  
'Anyone could be out there and you just come barging along yelling at the top of your lungs to the whole world that we're here.'

The man slouched against a convenient tree trunk took a deep draught of his coffee and shrugged nonchalantly before tossing the dregs into the fire, 'No-one's followin' us, you're jus' bein' paranoid.'

Ulric suddenly spoke up, a frown on his face, 'Don't forget though, that it pays to be cautious, I'd like it if you didn't go charging around yelling at the top of your lungs anymore'

The man who had spoken before shrugged again, 'Fine,' he grunted, 'whatever you say commander.'

There was a note of insolence in his tone which Ulric detected, his frown deepened to a scowl, he jerked his thumb in the direction of the woods, 'And congratulations, it's your turn on watch duty.'

Grumbling the man got up and began to make his way to the look-out spot, grabbing his spear and sword as he did so, Halt watched him nosily plunge through the woods to the spot his colleague had recently vacated and settle down.

A quavering hoot of a Tawny Owl suddenly broke the relative silence of the night, Halt automatically counted the hoots, three, Crowley's signal.

He quickly but quietly moved towards the guards position until he was close enough to hear the man's noisy breathing and occasional grumbles of annoyance. Halt froze as the guard briefly moved, it appeared as if he would turn around, but he was just pulling a flask of some alcoholic substance no doubt from a pouch at his belt to swig throughout the watch.

Halt rose from the half-crouch he'd been in, covering the last few feet so he was within touching distance of the man, then in a swift, silent movement, pulled his well-oiled saxe knife from it's sheath and slammed the hard, brassy knob at the hilt of the knife into the side of the man's head.

'Should've worn a helmet,' he grunted quietly, lowering the dead-weight of the man to the ground, grimacing at the stale odor of his body.

Halt quickly turned and began to move to the camp, thankfully the man had made little noise as he was knocked unconscious and none of the people in the clearing had been alerted.

Crowley had agreed to give a signal, in this case an owl call, once he was in position, after that Halt had a few minutes to deal with any watchmen before moving close to the camp and then, quite simply, charging in and letting it rip.

Halt unslung his bow and placed an arrow lightly on the string, he smiled grimly into the darkness, Ulrich was about to get a nasty surprise.

* * *

Ulrich sat on a large log which had been tugged across into the campsite by two of his men when they were putting up tents. He sipped some of his coffee then grimaced, he'd never really liked the brew. He wished for a moment he was back in his old Keep, he'd been in charge of a small section of Gorlan Fief, though the Keep wasn't a grand affair, it was secure and he enjoyed living there.

He scowled into the flames, he was now wishing he'd never agreed to Morgarath's scheme, he'd been promised that if he'd been loyal to Morgarath's cause he would be given a Fief to rule over, he could have been a Baron.

Now he was on the run. A fugitive. An outcast.

His scowl deepened.

Ulrich was suddenly yerked out of his musings by a low grunt of surprise mixed with pain then there was a dull _thump _. He turned quickly to see one of his soldiers slumped on the floor. Ulrich felt a cold hand grip his heart. A long black-shafted arrow had taken down his soldier where he stood. Poised behind him, just visible in the firelight was a short, cloaked figure, a Longbow clasped in hand with another arrow already at the string.

The former commander leaped to his feet and yanked his sword from it's sheath, letting out a cry of alarm to warn his soldiers. But he acted a little too later.

Within moments, all of his soldier were collapsed on the ground, victims of multiple injuries as the Ranger had opened fire and another had suddenly appeared from the opposite side of the clearing.

Ulrich glared at the two Rangers flanking him, 'Cowards,' he snarled, 'why don't you face me up close instead of hiding behind those bows from a distance?'

The second Ranger let out a snort of derision from behind him, 'Well Halt?' he asked the first Ranger, 'Would you like to finish him off or shall I?'

Ulrich stiffened and turned to the Ranger named Halt, 'Halt?' he repeated, 'You're Halt?'

'I believe so, yes,' replied the cloaked figure dryly.

The former commander felt a surge of anger directed towards this man, he was the one responsible for bringing about the fall of Morgarath's army, his spies had told him that much, with a roar of anger he charged towards the man who stood there calmly, making no move to defend himself.

Ulrich suddenly felt a sharp pain at the back of his head and before he could wonder what it was or even start to register the pain he collapsed to the ground unconscious.

Crowley grinned at Halt tossing back the cowl covering his face, and moved forward to retrieve his saxe knife, 'That went well didn't it?'

* * *

**Told you there'd be some action...**

**Sorry if there are any mistakes in this chapter or previous ones but I was in a bit of a hurry and needed to get them posted without proper proof-reading.**

**The next update may take a while to come out because there's a lot of school-work I need to get through at the moment.**


End file.
